


basil & iron

by goldenheure



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Gen, What is this a crossover episode?, in this house we have healthy relationships, most niche fic ever, we stan height differences, with the god of the dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheure/pseuds/goldenheure
Summary: i like the opposites attract trope
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Kudos: 21





	basil & iron

**Author's Note:**

> if you read this before no you didn’t ❤️ (it sucked so bad i’m re-writing it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Kore thinks for once

_”This is for your own good.”_

That was what Demeter had said to Kore before relegating her to languishing in a garden with other nymphs.

Really? Days and nights of gossip, hair braiding, and weed pulling was for “her own good?” Kore wondered if her mother even cared. Demeter was notoriously distant and overbearing, all at once.

Kore lay herself at the feet of a statue of her mother. It was within a temple mortals had built dedicated to her. Everyone worshipped her, it seemed. Even Kore did, in a way. She idolized her, of rather, the idea of her. Her happy memories of her mother intertwined with her memories of punishment and anguish, forming a unique emotional concoction. Kore didn’t like it.

Sun streamed in from between stone columns, warming her skin. It made her tan skin look like liquid gold, and it highlighted the subtle iridescence of her dark, curly hair. She wasn’t one for vanity—that was Aphrodite’s thing.

Kore looked up at the statue, arms crossed in front of her, resting upon the statue’s base. The statue’s expression was only describable as maternal.

”Why can’t I be you?” She whispered. “I’m just as important as you.”

Hot tears began to spill as her face crumpled into a ball of desperation and angst. 

“I’m not a child! It’s not fair.”

As she let out her frustration, vines grew around her. They dug into her skin and ripped her linen toga. Golden ichor spilled from her arms as the vines took hold. Soon, there was only darkness.

———

Kore awoke with a start, frantically looking around to get her bearings on her surroundings. Just her room. It was okay. Same as it ever was.

That temple, though. It wasn’t the same. Something within it lured her. Whispering a name she knew but didn’t at every same time. It commanded her presence and demanded her attention, her devotion. Not to her mother, but to herself. _Persephone,_ it beckoned. _Come to me._

She had to get there, that much she knew. She _would_ get there. 

Once morning rolled around, she had a game plan. She packed a small pouch with a few drachma—for offerings.

Kore slipped on a toga and gave herself an affirming nod in the mirror. _You can do this!_


End file.
